


Stayin' Up Til We See The Sun

by minyrrds



Series: if you're wondering [2]
Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, M/M, artist!neil, baker!andrew, korean!andrew, neil has to actually deal w his problems, poc foxes, the foxhole is one big happy fucked up bakery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7595317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyrrds/pseuds/minyrrds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard, figuring out a relationship when neither Neil nor Andrew wants to deal with their own problems, but here they are, trying to figure things out anyway. </p><p>(a coffee shop, no-longer-fake-dating au!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly didn't think I was going to do a sequel to "I Want You To" but here we are. Mostly I wanted to see how these kids fare in a relationship with each other.  
> For the wonderful Ray
> 
> Title from "You Don't Own Me" by Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underlined are texts from Neil

j&j want to go out tonight, a club called the raven’s nest, wanna come?

 

Andrew had gotten the text hours ago, while he was still at his shift at the bakery. He had left early, going on a supply run with Wymack, and here he was home at 9:30p and still no answer to Neil’s text.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go out with Neil, _The Raven’s Nest_ just wasn’t his scene (it didn’t help that he had beaten a couple of guys to a pulp outside of it a few years back in defense of Nicky).

 

we’re heading out, lmk if you come our way

 

Neil wouldn’t push, and he knew that (some small part in the back of his mind was grateful for that), so he settled down to make dinner, something small for himself and fancy feast for the cats. Eventually 11p rolled around and Andrew huffed a sigh before going into his bedroom and pulling out a skintight dark grey shirt and a pair of low slung black skinny jeans. He figured it was a miracle Neil hadn’t ended up dead yet when he was out with the mess that was Jeremy and Jean, and grabbed his keys and phone on his way out, stopping only to scratch King behind the ears and run a hand down Sir’s back.

  
  


Neil forgot how much he liked dancing.

He hardly ever went out to clubs like this, the packed atmosphere usually make him too uncomfortable to stay for very long, but tonight Jean had gotten a successful number of drinks in his system before they had left the apartment Jean shared with Jeremy and Neil was on the dance floor with his hips swaying to a heavily remixed song that Jeremy had been playing earlier in the evening.

Neil’s muscle tank was cut open almost to the hip on the sides, showing off the vines that crawled across his biceps and down to his ribs, and the geometric patterns across his forearms. His jeans had hugged against his ass so tightly that even Jean had been tempted to let out a slow whistle as when Neil had showed up at their apartment, dressed and ready for a night out. Jeremy had insisted on smudging a bit of eyeliner around his eyes to make the blue stand out more and Jean had run gel through Neil’s curls and trimmed the undercut. He was four drinks in when Matt had showed up with Dan, Allison, and Renee in tow and Laila dragged Alvarez in from the gallery. Laila had run up to him immediately and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek, arm snaking an arm around his middle as Neil laughed and tried to pull her body to the same motion as his (Alvarez had hung back for introductions, immediately hitting it off with the Allison and Renee who she hadn’t previously met and tackling Dan into a bear of a hug).

It wasn’t until Neil was at his sixth drink when Andrew had quietly slipped into the club, unnoticed.

Neil was still on the dancefloor, head tipped back onto Jean’s shoulder and Jean’s hands bracketing his hips against his. Jeremy was sitting back at their table talking to Renee but watching the two of them with a hungry look in his eyes (way back when Neil had first met the couple there had been a few nights Neil had spent in their bed with either of them before their friendship progressed past casual hookups and Neil had figured out exactly where he stood on the scale of demisexuality).

  
  


Andrew saw Jeremy first, noticing Renee’s pale hair in the lights of the club. He followed Jeremy’s line of sight to the couple on the dancefloor, Jean’s hand sneaking up underneath the hem of Neil’s shirt and a laugh barking out of Neil’s mouth. Andrew’s mouth went dry as he took stock of what Neil looked like. His shirt was sticking to him in places and completely exposed in others (Andrew wanted to lick his way up the vines on Neil’s arms), and his jeans were obscenely tight. The eyeliner had managed to make his eyelashes look darker than usual against his high cheekbones and his neck was still marked up with fading hickies from two days ago when Andrew had showed up to Neil’s studio with late dinner.  

He bit down on his tongue to quell the rising feeling of anger in his chest and pushed his way to where Neil. Jean saw him coming before Neil did and managed to poke a finger into Neil’s side to get his attention. Neil opened his eyes and his face immediately lit up when he caught sight of Andrew (something that made the knot of jealousy loosen in Andrew’s chest but set something else churning uncomfortably in his stomach; he hated it). Jean stepped back from Neil and over to Andrew, keeping a steadying hand on Neil’s hip as he leaned over to say something to Andrew.

“He’s had about six drinks, be careful with him.”

Andrew responded with a bored nod as Neil practically tripped over his feet on his way to Andrew.

“You came!”

Neil was an uncoordinated drunk, and Andrew had to all but catch him to keep him from sprawling headfirst onto the ground.

“You’re a mess, Josten.” Andrew tried sounding irritated but Neil was grinding his hips against Andrews in time to the music, face buried into the crook of Andrew’s neck.

“But I’m your mess,” Neil’s voice was close to Andrew’s ear and he let out a small laugh before asking Andrew “Yes or no?”

“No. You’re drunk.”

Neil nodded and took a step back. “Can we dance at least?”

The hesitation was clear on Andrew’s face, but after a moment of watching Neil very deliberately try to sober himself up he relented and pulled him in closer.

“Hands above the waist, Josten. No kissing.”

Neil pushed his forehead against Andrew’s and grinned his thanks.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” Andrew left his statement open ended.

“I don’t. Special occasion.”

Before Andrew could ask what the occasion was, Neil spun around and pressed his back against Andrew’s front and rolled his body against Andrew’s. He tipped his head back against Andrew’s shoulder (though with slightly more difficulty than when he tried with Jean since he had a solid three inches on Andrew) and whispered in Andrew’s ear.

“Ask me in the morning.”

 

Andrew let himself enjoy the rest evening, declining drinks from Jeremy and Allison in favor of taking care of Neil and his rapidly deteriorating mental state. Around his ninth drink, Andrew made the executive decision that it was time to head home and tugged Neil out of The Raven’s Nest and into the Maserati.

“Can I sleep at yours?” Neil mumbled from the passenger seat. “It’s closer.”

Andrew rolled his eyes but didn’t comment as he silently changed the direction they were heading from Neil’s apartment to his own. They parked out front and Neil managed the several flights of stairs without too much difficulty, much to Andrew’s amusement. The minute they were inside of his apartment, however, Neil was sprawled across the ground with King and Sir crawling all over him and meowing for attention. Andrew tried his hardest not to smile as he headed out to the balcony for a smoke while the cats were preoccupied inside.

He came back inside a few minutes later, bypassing a still-preoccupied Neil in favor of brushing his teeth and throwing his club wear into the hamper, changing into a soft tshirt for bed. He threw a clean tshirt at Neil’s head and set a spare toothbrush out for him in the bathroom before climbing into bed and waiting for Neil to slip him beside him to keep from accidentally punching Neil in his sleep like he had the last time Neil had stayed the night (it wasn’t a good night for Andrew).

Neil eventually managed to drag himself away from the cats and into the bathroom, getting ready for bed as quietly as anyone with nine drinks in their system could be. He padded into the bedroom and helped the cats onto the bed (unnecessarily) before crawling under the sheets himself.

“Andrew?” He whispered, curling in on himself like a comma.

“Hmm?”

“Sorry I was such a mess.”

“Go to sleep, Josten.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes passed and Andrew was almost asleep before he heard Neil’s voice again, this time in Russian.

“Spasibo,” _Thanks_.

“Spokoynoy nochi.” _Goodnight_.

Neil smiled. “Spokoynoy nochi, Andrew.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings! referenced beatings/abuse, blood, trauma, knives  
> I think that's all (v much in lines of the sort of tw/cw you'd need for the books!)

Neil’s internal clock woke him somewhere around 3am, despite the massive hangover he was nursing. Trying his hardest to keep Andrew from waking up, Neil took stock of where he was: pale light filtered through the blinds, casting shadows over the two purring huddles of cat at Neil’s feet; the faint scent of burned out cigarettes and Andrew’s spicy cologne filled the air.

He slid off the bed in one fluid motion, padding to the bathroom to pee and find the bottle of Advil Andrew kept in the back of his medicine cabinet. Neil tipped his head under the faucet for a mouthful of water before curling up on the old sofa in Andrew’s living room rather than rejoining Andrew in the bed; he was well acquainted with what it was like to wake Andrew up in the middle of the night and wasn’t eager for a hit like that again. There was a spare blanket hanging over the side that Neil pulled over himself - it was covered in a combination of black and orange fur and Neil tried his best to pick off the larger clumps where the had matted together on the fleece. Tomorrow morning he would face the reality of what the date signified, but for right now, he was going to lose himself to sleep.

  


There was something chasing him, no - _someone_.

_Junior, you know you can’t run from me for long_

Nathan’s voice rung out in the darkness, scratchy and low, vibrating through Neil’s chest. The sheer panic of hearing that voice pushed him to run harder, faster, _just a little bit further-_

 _Junior_ , the voice caught up to him, called out from over his shoulder and crept along his neck. _I’ve already got you._

The world went black.

 

Neil is six years old, learning how to mix colors for the first time. His mother is there, leaning over his shoulder and teaching him the names of the colors in English and Farsi. The sounds blend together until all Neil can comprehend is the soothing sound of his mother’s voice and the feeling of the thick cardboard picture book under his hands, with its large colored squares and boxy lettering denoting each color’s proper name. His mother’s perfume envelops him, and the moment is almost idyllic until a pounding on the door shatters the calm surrounding him. His mother stills behind him, quickly shoving him in the nearby cupboard with the picture book, trying in vain to hide that he is anywhere in the vicinity.

While he can’t see her open the door, or understand much of the hushed conversation that occurs between his mother and whoever has come to the room, he quickly learns that the visit is his fault. She lets him out then locks both the handle and the deadbolt, sits with a hand reaching for the gun hidden in her coat pocket and tells Neil that the concerned parent had come to speak about Neil’s strange interactions with the other children in school (the beating that follows leaves him limping for days after). They leave for a new town the following morning.

 

_Now, Junior, is that anyway to greet your good ol’ Dad?_

Nathan’s growl sunk under Neil’s skin, letting the dread bloom in his chest.

_You know you can’t keep me away for long._

The scream that ripped out from Neil wasn’t his own, and he stood horrified in the darkness, fingers pressed against his lips as his mother’s wail echoed from between his lips.

Nathan’s laugh made him feel almost claustrophobic in the oppressive black that surrounded him.

 

There’s so much blood.

There’s so much blood and Neil doesn’t know how to make it stop. There’s blood and blood and blood and he isn’t sure where Nathan’s stops and his begins. There’s Nathan’s favorite cleaver buried in the muscles in his chest, making it hard to move, hard to pull air between his lungs (somewhere in the back of his mind Neil knows that he’s lucky, knows that if that blade had sunk even half a centimeter farther it would have ripped past the muscle and he would have been royally fucked - _this_ was just an inconvenience, a profusely bleeding inconvenience).

There’s blood and there’s the blade he uses to sharpen his charcoals buried in Nathan’s neck.

There’s so much blood but somewhere in the midst of it there’s peace.

  


Neil woke to the smell of coffee and the low hum of one of the cats purring on his chest.

“Are you handling the pastries today?” He croaked out, throat parched from all the drinks he had the night before, not bothering to open his eyes.

“No. I’ll be back in two hours.” Andrew responded.

Neil hummed a response before slipping back into a dreamless sleep.

 

It wasn’t until late afternoon that he woke again. Neil stretched out on the couch, jostling more than one cat in the process, and blinked sleep away from his eyes. Andrew was sitting on the balcony outside, legs hanging freely between the bars that supported the railing. A cigarette sat balanced between his fingers, the crumbled empty pack of Marlboro Reds on the ground next to him.

Neil got up, tugging the blanket with him and went to sit outside next to Andrew (he managed to slip through the sliding door without letting either cat escape, much to their growing complaint).

He tugged at the cigarette between Andrews fingers before pressing it to his own lips and inhaling. He exhaled slowly through his nose before wordlessly handing the cigarette back.

They sat like that, not talking, not doing much at all really, until Andrew’s cigarette had burned down to the filter. Andrew’s apartment was high enough off of the ground that the distance between them and the concrete below caused a shiver to go up Neil’s spine at the thought of it.

“It’s my turn.” Andrew said, stubbing out the last embers off his cigarette. He turned to Neil, folding one leg up underneath him while letting the other still dangle over the edge. “What was the special occasion?”

Neil knew he shouldn’t be surprised, honestly at this point he could usually tell what Andrew was thinking from a mile away (it had been months since he had found himself sprawled on top of Andrew on the couch, kissing until their lips were bruised red and shining).

“It’s too early.”

“It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. Fess up, Neil.” Andrew responded without an ounce of sympathy.

Neil took a deep breath, shuddering slightly on the exhale, and his hand went under his shirt to trace the thick scar that ran from his clavicle, down his sternum, to the bottom of his ribcage.

“An anniversary.” Neil allowed.

“God, Josten, would it kill you to stop being so melodramatic all the time?” Andrew stood up, effectively shattering the tension rising between them and ending their conversation.

Neil opened his mouth to respond but Andrew cut him off.

“You don’t need to act like every little fucking thing is the end of the world. You’re still here, aren’t you?” Andrew wasn’t looking at him, in fact he was resolutely staring at the bed of flowers that Renee had brought over and attached to his balcony railing just last week (“I tried to find some that you wouldn’t be seeing daily on Neil,” she had said with a small smile).

Neil took a breath before responding.

“Yeah,” the words pushed out of his throat with a croak. “Yeah, I am.”

_And you’re right here, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to carol for being a gr9 beta, sorry this took seven years to post this ! as always hmu if you wanna cry abt these kids


	3. Chapter 3

 

Surprisingly enough, Andrew turned out to be Neil’s new favourite subject. He sketched him in the early hours of the morning, in the evenings when they let their legs dangle through the bars on the balcony. He sketched the curve of his nose, the way his fingers held cigarettes and kneaded dough. He sketched the way the light curled across Andrew’s cheekbones and fanned shadows from long pale lashes. He filled page after page with arms, shoulders, lips- intimate moments that hung in the air between them and moments where the bored look on Andrew’s face around their friends had quirked into something slightly softer, slightly more open. He committed them all to paper and let thoughts of him speak volumes through strokes and colors. 

“You should do an exhibition of some of your sketches,” Jeremy offered one day at lunch, lounging across the floor of Neil’s studio. “Maybe work some of the more defined ideas into portraits or studies. You could have a really great collection right there like that.” 

Neil paused, his Lo Mein halfway to his mouth and blinked a few times in response. 

Jeremy barked out a laugh. 

“I mean, it’s great work, and you can obviously tell there’s love behind it, so if you’re both comfortable with it, I don’t see why you shouldn’t go for it.” 

Neil shrugged and continued to eat his food. Truth be told, he hadn’t really considered what his next collection would be, even though Alvarez had been pressing him for weeks to come up with a new showing, or at least an idea, that she could put on the schedule for him. He’d gone awhile without selling anything or doing a new commission piece, and she was worried for him. 

“I’m not saying I’m totally against the idea of a showing, but I’m totally against selling any of it.” Neil hopped off the stool and went to throw out the empty take out container as Jeremy’s booming laugh filled the space again. 

“I figured as much,” he shrugged. “You could always just have it as an exhibition of your skills and the type of art you do, use it to get personalized commissions instead.” 

Neil considered it. It wasn’t a half bad idea, he just highly doubted Andrew would be comfortable with something like that, something that so clearly put him on display for the whole world to see and scrutinize. 

“I don’t think Andrew would go for it.” He said as he sat down and began flipping through the closest sketchbook for something that would look better stretched wide across a canvas before settling on a roughly drawn sketch of andrew leaning back on his elbows, feet dangling off the edge of their balcony, subtle wisps of smoke slipping from his lips. 

“You never know if you don’t ask.” 

Neil gave a non-committal hum in reply before beginning to sketch across the canvas. 

Jeremy looked up at him and grinned. 

“Nice choice.” 

  
  


“I think I’m going to do a showing soon,” Neil said offhandedly as he and Andrew walked home from the bakery. 

Andrew raised an eyebrow in response, going to light a cigarette before offering Neil one. 

“Nothing big, just a few sketches and maybe a few larger pieces.” Neil curled one hand in the warmth of his coat pocket and watched the cigarette balance between the fingers of his other hand as the tip glowed orange. 

“What of?” Andrew’s voice held no inflection in it, just the barest hint of interest; he wouldn’t ask if he wasn’t interested. Andrew wasn’t the kind of person for filler talk. 

“Well,” Neil started before taking a drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke burn in his throat for a minute before breathing in deeply. “Of you, actually.” 

Andrew tensed beside him, stopping entirely in the middle of the sidewalk as Neil continued on, not quite ignoring his boyfriend, but not giving into the public spectacle that this conversation was currently fringing on. 

“What.” Andrew’s voice was low and sharp, and it sent a small chill through Neil. 

“With your permission, of course.” Neil offered.

“No.” Andrew quietly picked back up his pace, catching up with Neil in a few short strides before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He was as upset as he was willing to show in public, looking murderous and vaguely terrifying to most passers-by. 

He didn’t speak again until they were home, as they changed into sweats and tshirts and Neil rooted through their box of take-out menus. 

“Why?” He asked, not quite looking at Neil but keeping him within his periphery.  

Neil looked up. 

“Because I want to.”

Andrew made a noise akin to a buzzer going off. 

“Wrong answer, try again.” 

“Because you’re all I’ve been drawing for months now?”

Another buzzer noise.

“Still not good enough.” 

Neil paused, and when he spoke his voice was softer than it had been, quiet enough that his response made Andrew press his eyes shut for a moment, breathing in deeply and trying to quell the rising tide in his chest. 

“Because you’re beautiful and I’d like other people to be able to see that.” 

Neil turned away and continued to look through the box for something suitable for dinner that he hadn’t had for lunch recently with Jeremy. “How do you feel about kabobs?” 

Andrew shrugged and Neil took that as enough affirmation to go ahead and call in an order. 

 

Later that night when the moonlight was hazy from behind the blinds and Neil was trying to commit to memory the way it made the hollows of Andrew’s cheeks more pronounced and his cheekbones look more like mountains carved into his face than ever before, Andrew responded to him. 

“Okay.”

Neil raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to-”

“I never do things that I don’t want to do.” He responded flatly, an unimpressed look settling on his face. Andrew drew his shoulders inward before flipping himself on the bed to face a different direction than Neil. “Just don’t sell any of them.”

Neil smiled softly where Andrew couldn’t see. “Not for all the money in the world.”

“Shut up, Josten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I was definitely not planning on finishing this fic at all, but I was having a Night and I just needed to write about small sad boys and happier things. I have a few things planned from here on out, so it wont be too long before it's over, and this will probably be my last tfc fic (unless someone bullies me into writing smth else). I literally wrote this in half an hour and just poured out a lot of feelings, hopefully it seems at least a little bit in character!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh we're almost at the end here, have some andrew pov

Alvarez was, quite possibly, going to kill Neil. Probably with her own hands, no murder weapon necessary. She had arraigned the gallery to be his, three days only, a private showing that was invitation only, and he was a no-show. Jeremy and Jean were standing together, quietly discussing a sketch of Andrew’s hands that Jean had been trying to get Neil to give him for weeks now, rough and done in pencil and covered in a little bit of flour from the bakery. Neil was supposed to have arrived at the gallery around 6:30 to help set up and decide on the placement of the pieces. Instead, Alvarez had walked into an entirely set up gallery with a note saying that Neil would be late. 

He was an hour late so far, and Alvarez was quietly coming up with different ways to murder him in her mind. She was up to 4 when she saw him walk in, Andrew in tow, both sporting two new suits that while they didn’t exactly match, complimented the other’s quite nicely. Alvarez gave Neil her patented “I will fuck you up” eyebrow raise before walking over to the pair and pointedly ignoring the protective stance Andrew had quickly taken over Neil. 

“You know I love you,” Neil flinched. “But don’t you dare pull this shit on me ever again.” 

Neil nodded his understanding and let himself be dragged away from Andrew by Alvarez with a quick “Now you’ll meet who I’ve invited here and you will like it, Josten.” 

  
  


_ (I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead) _

Andrew was left to wander by himself through the exhibition. He had seen a few of the pieces in passing, but never bothered to fully inspect the drawings Neil had done of him. It was uncomfortable to have them all presented together in one large gathering, so raw and unabashedly focused on one subject alone. Enough to fill a gallery even. 

It was clear to anyone looking at him for longer than a moment that the baker was the subject of every piece on display, from the piercings to the soft pink that flitted in and out of the canvases and sketches that lined the room. Though, there was something softer in the lense that Andrew was viewed from when Neil was committing him to paper. It wracked a feeling down his spine that he couldn’t shake. He knew that somehow Neil had crawled under his skin and made a home for himself there, but it wasn’t until he truly looked at the paintings that Neil had done of him that he understood exactly how much. There was a quiet burning affection behind each stroke and line, each dash of pink or trail of ash that Neil had pressed in from the butt of Andrew’s cigarettes as they burned out. His eyes followed them around the room, looking for the narrative Neil had created for him to see. There was the piece that was entirely burned from an unattended cigarette. The piece that was of Andrew’s hands cupping a cigarette from the cold. Then his hands rolling dough in the bakery, then to another of him piping a roll of eclairs. They lead to pieces of his arms, working with various doughs and pastries (never drawings of his scars, those he had explicitly forbidden without Neil having to ask). Studies of his shoulders and his back. Studies of movement and raw motion that sometimes just left a blur of color on paper that Andrew couldn’t hope to figure out. It was all Andrew Andrew Andrew, and it left him swimming and gasping for air in the midst of it all. It was overwhelming. 

 

_ (I lift my lids and all is born again) _

“I can have Alvarez send everyone home if you hate it.” Neil’s voice crept up on him from over Andrew’s shoulder, making him tense. 

“I didn’t say anything, Josten.” Andrew responded after a breath. 

“And yet…” 

“Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?” Andrew reached for the cigarettes in his pocket and slipped one between his lips before gesturing to the back door. Neil shook his head.

“I have to stay out here for another hour or so, don’t want to piss Alvarez off more than I already have.” 

Andrew shrugged, as if to say suit yourself, and headed in the direction of the door, desperate to get air into his lungs and slip from the prying eyes that had been following him from the moment he had step foot into that room. 

 

_ ( _ _ I think I made you up inside my head) _

Andrew found Jean sitting outside, smoking on a overturned milk crate. 

“It got to be a little too much, eh?” Jean asked, a small smile forming around the cigarette he slid between his lips. 

Andrew ignored him in favor of lighting his cigarette and taking a deep drag. 

“You know,” Jean continued, as if Andrew had given him the slightest indication that he was interested in what he had to say. “I’ve never seen Neil work quite like this.” Andrew took another drag.

“You see, he used to be all about perfection. Precision. Careful lines and no guesswork, all planning and careful erasing. Never anything truly from the heart. I think he lost some of that when his mother- well when that happened. When all of that happened. I would have loved to see some of his work from before then. I can only imagine what it must have been like. But then again, what it must have been like was frightened and sad, perfect lines and no soul. No, I would have liked to have seen his works that he did in collaboration with his mother. But I suppose,” he stopped his rambling to look over at Andrew and catch him with a steady eye. “I suppose I don’t have to now.” 

Andrew took a quiet breath. 

“I mean you’ve seen it in there. It’s all emotion and depth. No planning just a feeling, a notion of a movement that has been captured for a fragment of a moment and wrapped up in so much love-” he let out a low bark of a laugh,” love can you just imagine it? Love. From our very own resident emotionless artist.” Jean raised an eyebrow. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? You knew that he loved you?”

Andrew didn’t respond, just dropped his almost finished cigarette to the floor of the alley and ground it out under the heel of his shoe before turning to walk off and away from thee conversation he had no desire to be a part of. 

 

_ The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, _

_ And arbitrary blackness gallops in: _

98%- no, he corrected himself 99%. Neil was at 99%. 

  
_ I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the italicized lines are from sylvia plath's [mad girl's love song](https://allpoetry.com/Mad-Girl's-Love-Song)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow this only took six months for me to figure out how to end it. I strongly suggest listening to "Empty Norther Hemisphere" by Gregory Alan Isakov while reading this teeny tiny ending.

There was something special in the collection, or so every potential client who had walked through it thought. Alvarez had strictly told them that no piece in the exhibition was for sale, but offers kept coming anyway. Neil turned them all down with a polite “No,” before moving on to offer personal commissions for pieces that could be done in the style the person was offering for, but he didn’t really feel comfortable selling the portraits he had done of his partner as it was. By the end of the night he had over a dozen new commission requests and it was only the first of the three nights that the gallery had set aside for him. 

He slipped out quiet, exhausted from the night, and made it home after a leisurely stroll in the pleasant night air back. He took his time, expecting Andrew to still be awake waiting for him despite the late hour. 

When he walked through the front door the cats were there to greet him, winding around his legs and generally making enough noise to be heard floors down from them, even with the door shut. Andrew sat on the balcony, smoking a cigarette with his feet dangling off the bannister. 

Neil joined him outside, careful not to let the cats make their way out there as well, and made himself comfortable on the concrete slab next to Andrew. 

“Did you like it?” He asked, after a while, daring to lay his head on Andrew’s shoulder. 

Andrew shrugged with one shoulder. 

“You’re such a sap, Josten.” 

Neil smiled shyly into the skin of Andrew’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, but I’m your sap.” 

Andrew snorted. 

“Something like that.” 

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, just letting the warmth of the air wash over them and the eddies of smoke from Andrew’s cigarettes curl in the space between their faces. 

Happy, together, and content. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://tooruoikawa.co.vu) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/virquo) if u wanna cry abt these kids


End file.
